


me, you, us

by orphan_account



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Braindump, F/M, First Chapter is Angst, You Have Been Warned, idk what is this, it turned into this bittersweet mess though ugh, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What could be; could have been; will be.Or, my ppg braindump.
Relationships: Boomer/Bubbles Utonium, Brick/Blossom Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Kudos: 29





	me, you, us

**Author's Note:**

> just some food for y'all to chew on in replacement of the pyhim chapter i was supposed to upload this week that i have not done because exams are in two weeks :(( i probably won't be as active for the next two weeks at least so here have this thing i wrote while angsting two weeks ago. bye. it's a school night again i need to sleep why do i keep doing this to myself

* * *

**i.** leaving

* * *

The moon peeks out from behind grey clouds, bright and curving to form a crescent. Its rays fall and hit him in all the right places, cause his golden hair to glint and sparkle, makes his pale cheeks seem all the more smooth, all the more kissable.

She hates that it might be the last time she ever sees him like this.

"Were you really..." Her voice startles him; he spins around to find her by the entrance of the balcony, half of her body hidden from view by the sliding door. She takes in his wide eyes, guilty expression and her heart _aches_. Pushing it aside, she swallows and continues. "Were you really going to leave without telling me?"

His lips move, open, close, open, close, but no sound comes out. He doesn't need words, if she's being honest, since his face says it all. 

"You were, weren't you?" Bubbles says, and her voice is so, _so_ soft. She wishes she was more like Blossom, or even like Buttercup. _They_ wouldn't have had such small voices. The words would have come out strong and accusatory, empowering and _everything Bubbles is not_ . She wishes she could be stronger, more like them, in this situation, because she _deserves_ to be angry, _deserves_ to be upset, but everything _hurts_ and being strong has never been harder.

"Bubbles, I-"

" _No!_ " She snaps, and suddenly she _is_ angry. "Don't you _dare_ 'Bubbles, I' me!" Her eyes sting and her vision blurs. "You were going to go to _God-knows-where_ for _God knows how long_ and _leave me here_ !" Her fists clench for a moment and all the fight in her leaves with one big whoosh. "You were going to _abandon_ me."

"No, I swear! I wasn't-" He fumbles to find the correct words, his hands moving to grasp at her shoulders instinctively before he catches himself and lets them drop limply at his sides. "I swear I didn't mean to." He says finally, quietly, ocean eyes deep and filled with genuine apology.

"I just thought..." His gaze falls to his sneakers. "I just thought it would be easier, like this."

And she looks at him, this golden boy, with sunlit hair and navy blue irises, looks at his nose and ears and cheeks and lips that she's kissed countless times, and all the indignance drains away. It leaves a hollow sort of sadness, a sorrow and a longing for something that is so far out of her reach.

"Was it easier for you?" She asks, stepping forward and fitting her palm to his cheek.

He shudders slightly upon contact. "No," he croaks, and when he looks down into her eyes, his gaze is sincere and broken all at once.

She smiles sadly and moves to seek his lips with hers, letting her arms rest against his chest as she presses herself into him for what might be the last time.

The thought makes her tear up, again, and she can only let out something of a forlorn sigh as she kisses him even harder.

They pull apart and he brushes her tears away, softly pressing his lips against her eyes, forehead, cheeks, nose, and finally her lips, pouring a part of his soul into her as he does so. She welcomes that part of him with open arms, as she's done with every other piece of him, cradles at and swears to herself that she'll hold onto it forever and always.

"I'm sorry," he rasps, pulling away, and a single tear streaks down his right cheek. "I..." He leans his forehead against hers, "I have to go."

She can't speak, her throat tight, and only nods. Her body betrays her desires, though, and her fingers clutch at the cloth of his shirt.

"C'mon, Bubs," he gently coaxes her fingers away but to no avail.

"You're coming back, aren't you?" She turns her pleading eyes on him even as he stiffens.

His fingers grip hers tightly and he stares into her, the cobalt rich with conviction. "Of course." Her eyes burn and she sees something in his gaze soften. "You know I’ll fight through hell just to come back to you."

Tears spill from her eyes and she loosens her grip on his shirt, just enough for him to pull away if he really wants to.

He does, and she feels a part of her tear away as he does it.

"Goodbye, Bubbles." He sends one last wistful look her way, a forced smile on his lips.

Her heart cracks as she pushes her cheeks apart to form a smile. It's a far cry from her usual one, but she guesses it'll just have to suffice. She doesn't want his last memory of her to be a bad one; not this time.

"Goodbye, Boomer."

* * *

"Do you... _really_ have to go?" Buttercup asks, leaning against the door frame. Butch's shirt is thin and loose at it hangs over her torso, and she shivers. The night air is cool against her skin.

"Ya gonna miss me, Butters?" There's a teasing twinkle in his forest green eyes, and his lips curve roguishly.

She scoffs, and the "as if" is already on the tip of her tongue, but something makes her hold back. Maybe it's the melancholy in his gaze, maybe it's the dread in the air, maybe it's the God damned cold. She sighs, and something drops into the pits of her stomach.

"Yeah," she breathes, and the word is so soft it's almost imperceptible. She knows he caught it, though, because suddenly his eyes turn serious and there's a suffocating heaviness in the air.

"You don't have to," he bends down to stare straight into her eyes, and his gaze holds a solemn promise. "I'll be back before you know it."

He straightens, then, and he looks unfairly good in the moonlight. "After all," he brings up his right arm and uses his other hand to pat at his bicep, "they're gonna have to deal with _these_ babies."

His words cause her chest to lighten slightly, make her lips spread in a smile and induce her affectionate eye roll. He gives a short laugh and ruffles her hair in response, effectively messing up her bangs and tangling the cropped strands. A light glare is sent his way but he shrugs and extends his arms.

"One last hug before I go?" He asks, the corner of his lip quirking in a pleading way, and she doesn't hesitate to fall into his chest, like she's done a million thousand times before.

"I still don't get why I can't go with you," she grumbles into his hoodie, her hands finding their way around his torso while his hands come to rest on her hips.

"I don't know either," he sighs, resting his chin on the top of her head, "but Brick was super insistent on not letting y'all come." (And Buttercup _knows_ this, still remembers the weight and intensity of the Red Leader’s crimson gaze - so very similar to her elder sister’s - and still recalls the tone that had left no room for argument as he’d said “no”.)

She exhales as well, and as she buries her face deeper into his chest, she thinks she could stay like this forever, in his arms, surrounded by every bit and piece of him. He makes her feel whole.

Too bad he's leaving.

"You better..." The back of her eyes are burning and her throat feels thick as she speaks. "You better fucking come back to me, got it?"

He hums, and the vibrations that reverberate from his chest feel too good against her skin. She really doesn't want to let go.

"If you-" She tries to breathe through her nose, but it's filled with fucking snot and a wet sound comes out instead. "If you fucking _die_ ," her voice shakes on the word, "I'll pull you out of hell, castrate you and slaughter you _myself_."

He laughs, but it's the sad sort of laugh now, and she can _hear_ the regrets and what-ifs and yearning in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses it and lets her go, his hands falling from her hips back to his side. She does so too, albeit with a bit more reluctance, letting her hands slide over whatever part of him that is possible to touch.

He stands before her silently, and there's a sense of finality in the air. A sudden wanting grabs at her and puts her in the chokehold, makes her want to pull him close and hoard him, makes her want to push herself up and meet her lips with his, makes her want to tell him to _stay with her, forever and always, and-_

There's a quick pressure against her mouth, a pressure that she _knows_ , in a split second, is his, and she wastes no time in pressing her mouth back against it, their lips moving and her hand on the small of his back to steady herself. This kiss isn’t what they usually are, isn’t just a primal urge or the search for a distraction. It holds the hope of something _more_ , something she can’t afford to have. Not right now.

They break apart, and Butch gives her a grin. She can tell that it's a fake one from the strain in his cheeks and the way it doesn't meet his eyes. There's a certain sorrow that it hints to, twisting her gut and pulling her heart down to the pits of her stomach.

"See ya, Butterbabe," he says, and her own goodbye is barely on her lips before he takes off.

Her eyes follow his telltale dark green energy streak as it stretches across the sky, and her chest is so, _so_ heavy.

"Bye, Butch," she replies to the cold night air, and a chilling emptiness washes over her.

* * *

"So... it's time, huh?" Blossom asks, out of the blue. Even through the shadows of the trees and the darkness of the night she can see him freeze.

"Did you know the whole while?" He questions back, lifting his cap up and running his fingers through his hair. He likes to do that when he's stressed about something, she notes.

"Well, Buttercup wouldn't shut up about it and Bubbles kept crying, so." Her shoulders shrug in a vague sort of way and she turns her gaze on the park's sign board, just barely illuminated by the orange-yellow street lights.

They stand by the park's entrance, having just finished the impromptu walk he'd invited her upon, and she'd thought maybe this walk would clear up some things about who, or rather, what they are, but they'd been silent the whole time and she's still unclear as to where they stand. A small, dry smile escapes. She shouldn't be still thinking about these things. There's never been time for that, and never will be.

For some reason that thought sends a desolate pang through her chest. She guesses a small part of her had always wished for time for that, had wished that this would be the time for that, but now she thinks perhaps not, and that really, they aren't like Bubbles and Boomer, or Butch and Buttercup, and maybe they just aren't meant to be. And Blossom… she’s not sure if she’ll be okay with that, not for a while.

She shifts to her left, if only to be a little closer to him in these last moments, and turns to face him. "We _can_ help you, you know? I promise we won't be a hindrance, we're not the same as we were three years ago-"

"I know." He barks, irritation evident in his voice. She draws back, slightly, something sharp and unfathomable digging into her chest, only to be stopped by his hands encircling her wrists and pulling her back. And his hands stay there, holding hers, in a way, as he continues to speak. His touch is warm and apologetic.

"It's just..." His garnet gaze flickers from the sign board to her, like the flames he commands. "This is between _Him_ and us." His jaw is set tightly. "Don't take this personally, but I don't want you- I don't want you or the Girls there."

Something in his gaze emboldens her, makes her tug her wrists out of his grasp in favour of lacing their fingers together. "Okay," she says softly, and fear lodges itself into her heart. A fear that she'll never get to hold his hands again, a fear that he'll pull away, a fear that this is the _last time_ , and she is _scared_.

She lets her eyes trace his features, makes her mind commit to memory every little freckle, every curve to his mouth, every eyelash and every edge to his jaw.

His skin is so very warm, so very comforting beneath hers.

"What are we?" She asks unwittingly, and he is silent. Her heart pounds in her ears, alarm bells ring in her head, and her mind is cursing _stupid, stupid, stupid_ , because it's _really_ not the time.

She wants to hear his answer, though. Just as much as she doesn't want to.

"I don't know." He admits quietly. Her heart sinks.

"Oh." She should have known. It was never meant to happen, anyway. Not with them being who they are, with their responsibilities and duties, and- she isn’t fooling anyone, is she?

"But I want to find out. After all this is over." There's an emotion that shines in his eyes and fills her heart with hope, and suddenly she's seventeen again, falling hard and fast for the boy with the cap and the devil's eyes, the one that tosses snarky remarks at her in class yet makes her pulse race like no other.

"Will you wait for me?" Uncertainty sparks back into his gaze as he implores her.

She surges upwards and presses a feather-light kiss to his cheek in response. And they are what they always were - almost something, but not quite, all at once. And she thinks maybe she shouldn’t get so attached as of now, not when he’s leaving in mere seconds and quite possibly never coming back, but she can't quite bring herself to care at the moment. Not when he's gazing at her like that, like she's the single best thing he's ever seen, and _God_ , she doesn't want him to go. Her heart tugs painfully and loss swells up, crashing into her like waves on a shore.

"Please come back," she pleads, clutching his hands like they’re her lifeline in an ocean of misery, and she's just barely grasped him, but now he's floating out of her reach again.

"I’ll try," his breath tickles the skin of her cheek and before she knows it his warmth is gone, disappearing in a streak of bright vermillion.

The emptiness he leaves behind seems real, now, swallowing her whole and seeping through her being. As the red fades away, she can't shake the finality in the air, or how it all feels like the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> what am i even doing anymore GOODNIGHT i'm sorry again for not updating


End file.
